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Sometimes Lumine wondered when would this be the last time.
That ‘this’ being therapy, and she wasn’t talking about the kind where you made an appointment, sat on an uncomfortable chair as you spoke, and let the therapist listen while silently judging everything about you and your life. Lumine wished this was that kind of therapy—not that it was any better, any illness was never a good thing.
It's just that she’s had enough of hers.
The day was clear with few clouds drifting lazily on the sky. 8 a.m. sunlight felt warm on her pale skin, and the spring wind whispered gently. There were a lot of elderly around, some with their family members, while nurses accompanied the rest. And then there was her, neither accompanied by a family nor a nurse—just her, Aether’s shawl draped on her head and hung loosely around small shoulders, a book from a discharged patient next door, and her trusty wheelchair in this hospital garden.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure which would be first: her becoming numb to the therapy or the therapy completely killing those cells, which was the main cause for her presence here.
A heavy sigh spilled from her. It was much better when Aether was here with her—at least he’d talk a lot about how things had been, but she couldn’t be greedy. He worked so hard to pay all her medical bills that kept rising and piling. She felt bad, terribly so, and used to ask him to just let her live with this so he wouldn’t have to be so pressured.
“And watch you suffer right in front of my eyes? Not a chance. I’d drag you to the hospital myself if I have to.”
Well, he didn’t need to drag her because she randomly fainted one day during her stream and immediately got admitted again. The dragging part was only when the ambulance arrived, and he didn’t even drag her.
Speaking of her stream…
It’s been 3 weeks since that stream where she, or maybe Aether, had to end abruptly. And during those 3 weeks, there wasn’t even one day when Aether let her touch her phone. That meant no apologies for the abrupt stop of her stream, no announcement for her hiatus, and definitely no contact with her close co-op friend. It would be a lie if she wasn’t missing streaming and talking to people, but at this condition… to be allowed to go to the garden was a blessing already.
Bright eyes gazed at a couple of elders sitting together on a bench, holding each other’s hands while talking and smiling. Lumine knew the grandpa—Grandpa Liu from the elderly ward—and it looked like he found love in this hospital.
“Good for him,” Lumine mumbled, lips formed half a smile. “He won’t be lonely that way.”
Because he said he didn’t have much left to live and his family barely visited him. Sometimes Lumine played the good granddaughter for him, but ever since 2 weeks ago, she wasn’t allowed to go out of her room too much so the only chance was to meet him in the garden. But now that he’s already had someone with him, it’d be best for her to let the two alone.
Another gust swept through the garden, stronger this time, flipped her book open and snatched away the paper she used as a bookmark. She needed to get it; that paper contained her blood test result that the nurse told her to keep just in case.
“Sorry, is this yours?”
Someone came to her side, a tall man with ginger hair wearing casual clothes. A green name tag with the logo of the hospital saying “visitor” was attached to his chest while another bigger one with “Liyue Volunteer” something was hanging from his neck. The sun glaring behind him made Lumine squint, trying to see through the shadow that fell across his face to no avail.
“I didn’t mean to peek, but I thought it’s important and–” he stopped, bowed slightly as though trying to get a closer look at her before continuing, “Ying?”
This made her blink. Nobody called her that except those who watched her stream. Could this guy be one of her subscribers? But she never showed her face during her stream; always using her virtual persona because she couldn’t be bothered to put on makeup to cover her sickly face.
So who’s he?
As if sensing her confusion, he quickly crouched next to her wheelchair. Eyes the color of blue and somewhat a familiar face came to sight. He smiled at her.
“It’s me, Tartaglia,” he said. “Remember me?”
Tartaglia. There’s only one person that she knew with that name—a username.
“Tartaglia,” she nodded, still surprised, “how did you recognize me?”
“Remember that time when you accidentally turned on your camera during our co-op session? Outside your stream?”
Yeah, Lumine had that accident before—her dark room, lit only by the computer screen made her press the wrong button. It took her a while to realize that and when she did realize it, he had turned on his camera as well. No wonder he looked familiar.
“I remember,” she chuckled, taking the paper and slipping it back to her book. “What’s the chance that we live in the same city?”
He propped a hand on his knee and rested his chin there, gazing up at her with somewhat a soft look. “Very slim, but here we are.”
Yeah, here they were. They had once discussed meeting outside the game, but the notion was rejected by her because there was no way she could afford to do that. Not because she wanted to keep her privacy—that’s part of it, yes, but mostly it’s because Aether wouldn’t let her go anywhere without him. She didn’t blame her twin because one time she went out on her own, Aether received a call from a clinic saying that his sister had fainted in the park.
She didn’t want to make him worry again.
“Sorry,” he suddenly apologized, “if you don’t want me to know this, I could pretend–”
“It’s fine,” Lumine interjected. “I know you. I trust that you won’t spread anything about this.”
This being her got admitted to the hospital. Lumine knew he had noticed how she was wearing the patient uniform and the wheelchair was a big giveaway. The bracelet around her wrist also marked her as an inpatient rather than a visiting one, and if he noticed her tired, pale face, then he might be able to get the idea that yes, her illness wasn’t a light one.
The man made a zipping gesture across his lips. “I promise.”
He was as kind as he sounded. “Thanks, Tartaglia.”
“Childe,” he said suddenly. “My name’s Ajax, but my close friends all called me Childe. Just call me that.”
Lumine stared at him before nodding. “Alright, Childe.”
He smiled and then stood with a stretch. “The sun’s getting hotter. Wanna go inside? I can push the wheelchair.”
“Aren’t you a volunteer? Shouldn’t you have something to do?”
Childe stood behind her and started pushing the wheelchair. “Yeah, and this is one of those things.”
They talked a lot as he accompanied her inside, things like how her viewers were all looking for her after her social was left with just a short message saying that she’d be taking a hiatus for an unknown time. That must have been Aether who wrote that, which was surprising since he had told her not to continue her streaming activity after she got discharged from the same hospital for the same illness. But there’s nothing she could do about that. It’s best for her to slowly distance herself from that spotlight when she didn’t know for sure how much longer she would stay this way.
“Oh, not this way,” Lumine said suddenly, interrupting his story about the game’s newest patch that introduced a new region as they made a turn to the right, leading to the general ward.
“Not there?”
She heard his confusion loud and clear in that question. Lumine turned around to see his face slowly turn grim at the sinking realization. She could only offer him a small smile.
“Yeah, my room is in the Oncology Ward.”
The way silence fell between them almost made her want to laugh. Was it that surprising? Lumine wondered what he was thinking right now after getting enough idea to guess her illness.
“You–”
“Ajax! There you are! We need more people in the Pediatric Ward!”
Someone approached them, a blonde-haired man who wore the same two name tags. Childe nodded at him.
“You go first, Thoma. I’ll take her to her room first then join you.”
The other guy nodded and then quickly left for the said ward, once again leaving them alone in the deserted hallway. Childe returned to her, only to see her already making her way to her ward. He followed after her; profile still as grim yet no words were uttered at all.
“It’s fine, Childe. You can join your friend. I’m used to the wheelchair,” she said, breaking the silence that started to weigh down on her. “Thanks for accompanying me.”
“I’ll visit you,” he said suddenly, turning into a different topic all of a sudden. “After I’m done with my shift, I’ll visit you… if you don’t mind?”
This brought a smile to her. The idea of having a company didn’t sound bad at all.
“Sure.”
Childe smiled as he started to make his way to the pediatric ward. “Then, I’ll see you at 4, Ying.”
“Lumine.”
“Huh?”
She turned to him, who stopped right on his track to look at her.
“My name’s Lumine.”
His time spent in the hospital was now stretching a lot longer.
Volunteer started at 8 a.m., sometimes at 3 p.m. if he took the afternoon shift. The former ended around 4 p.m., while the latter at 11 p.m., and lately, he had been applying for the morning shift for five days straight. The reason was simply because he had promised to visit a certain girl on the oncology ward. His volunteer friends were all aware of this and dubbed her as his crush, and who’s Childe to deny it? It’s not like they’re spewing out lies.
The only thing they’re wrong was the fact that it didn’t start from the day he met her here in the hospital, but far even before that. Childe had been liking her since they played the game together, out of respect at first from seeing how she could grow her account very quickly in six months. Then, it turned into something like a celebrity crush. Then, as they played the game together outside her stream, he suddenly found himself liking her as a person.
It didn’t make sense at first as he knew very well that he could mistake parasocial relationships as genuine liking feelings, and yet everything melted away the day he met her in that hospital garden.
He liked her beyond her streaming persona.
“Don’t you find me creepy?” he asked one Wednesday in her room when the clock slid into 6 and all volunteer activities ceased. “For being so friendly like this, visiting you daily when we’re just online friends?”
Lumine looked up from the book she’d been reading. “My money earned from streaming is all spent on this so I have nothing to steal from, and my life expectancy is questionable already so–”
“No, stop. I’m sorry for asking that,” he cut in, bringing a hand to his face to mask his sigh, earning a laugh from her.
“It’s all good. If anything, it’s nice to have you here,” she paused and contemplated a little, “We’re friends.”
Childe let himself slump into her bed, hot cheek mushed into the soft bedding and face directed her way. He looked up at her, finding the dark circles ghosted under her tired eyes, pale lips, and skin white in a way that wasn’t healthy. A hand reached out for hers, lifting it easily to see how the small hand was easily engulfed by his hand. Skin was a bit cold, maybe from the air conditioner, but it worried him, still.
“Say,” he said slowly, voice hanging low like a whisper, “what is it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The… cancer,” he bit his inner cheek, trying not to flinch at the word, “what kind of cancer is it?”
“Fibrosarcoma,” she answered after a pause. “Basically, my body creates fibrous tissue in places where it’s not supposed to be. This isn’t my first time here, though.”
Childe pushed himself up immediately. “Not your first time?”
“It’s a recurrence, a local one, so it should be fine after some chemo and observation.”
Childe could feel his heart plummet at that. This wasn’t her first time, meaning either the first attempt of removing it completely had failed or the cancer returned somehow. Yet it sounded so easy when she said it. Should be fine after some chemo… as if that therapy didn’t take a toll on her body from its side effects. He had noticed it, the way she always wrapped the shawl around her and covered her head—hair loss was a common side effect from chemotherapy, or so he heard.
A clap snapped him out of the long thought, pulling him back to see her two hands pressed together. “It’ll be fine. I feel better nowadays, and it’s a lot more bearable when you have people around,” she smiled. “Thank you for visiting me, Childe.”
And for finding her, no matter how coincidental it was.
A knock on the door echoed in the room. It swung open, revealing two men with similar blonde hair, one of them had a face very similar to Lumine’s.
“Uncle Dain, Aether,” Lumine greeted. “Took you guys long enough.”
The older man placed a bag on the table before approaching her, eyeing Childe while he was at it. He said nothing to him, just a nod as if acknowledging his presence. Childe immediately stood, letting him take over as he watched the man checking over her, murmuring apologies which she brushed off lightly. A tap on his shoulder had him turning and the guy with a similar face to Lumine motioned him to follow.
They were standing in the hallway, with Childe feeling the scrutinizing stare from the blonde. He extended a hand, then.
“I’m Childe,” he introduced himself, “Lumine’s friend.”
The guy—Aether, was it? Must be Lumine’s sibling—still stared at him, unmoving. His eyes focused on the two name tags hanging on his clothes, to which Childe quickly added, “I’m a volunteer, you can find my identity if you ask the volunteering committee.”
The long silence started to irk him, but he understood why. If Tonia were to be in the same room alone with some random guy that he didn’t know, he wouldn’t hesitate to interrogate him, too.
So Childe held his tongue and waited to see what’s he going to say.
“Thanks.”
Oh, that’s pretty unexpected.
“For accompanying her. I heard it from her nurse,” Aether shook his hand. “I’m Aether, Lumine’s older twin. The man inside is our uncle.”
“Uncle?”
“We’re orphans. Uncle took us in when we were kids,” he glanced into the room, looking at the smiling girl. “This might sound like an excuse, but Uncle Dain and I can’t always come to visit her because of our work, so I’m grateful that you’re here.”
Childe pondered for a while before saying, “Yeah, that dark undereye speaks volumes.”
“Anything for her recovery,” Aether shrugged his shoulders. “Lumine trusts you, so I want to honor that.”
Blue gaze followed where his eyes fell, watching how painful it was for her to keep smiling when things weren’t at all smiling at her. She had been here for four weeks now, done her chemotherapy after the cycle break, and each time, it felt like her life got sucked out of her instead.
“She’ll be okay, right?” Childe found himself asking, quiet, as though not wanting to ask it in the first place. “The chemotherapy gonna work on her, right?”
The lack of a definite answer from Aether accompanied Childe as he made his way back home—a bit too pessimistic as though he was too scared to hope. Childe wouldn’t call himself an optimist, he’s more of a realist, but he wanted to believe that those drugs injected into her vein would work, that after all the pain and loneliness she went through, she would win in the end. She would survive.
Childe did some research about her cancer that night, barely getting any sleep after finding out that patients with such illness had a typically 5-year survival rate, with up to 80% chance for low-grade cancer and only 30% for high-grade one.
30% of surviving up to the next 5 years…
What stage was Lumine at now?
It was Thursday at 1 p.m. when Childe ran into Aether during his volunteering break, one day after their first meeting, who was in a hurry to reach the oncology ward. The same older man from the other day had been there first when they arrived, standing outside her room as if waiting for Aether. They talked in whispers as Childe peeked into the now-empty room before he got pulled by Aether.
“Her condition worsened. The cancer’s spreading to her lungs,” the twin said, voice no louder than a murmur, “she’s moved to another room to prepare for surgery.”
And he couldn’t help but ask about it— her cancer, how severe is it?
“Fourth.”
Childe froze at that answer, all too definitive now.
Fourth stage. Spreading to lungs. He read about it last night. Possible recovery by surgery and more chemotherapy.
“A prognosis typically refers to a 5-year survival rate. For high-grade fibrosarcomas, 5-year survival rates are around 30 percent. For low-grade fibrosarcomas, these survival rates increase to 50–80 percent.”
30%.
It’s a low percentage.
Aether tugged his arm, making him fall into steps with the other two who had started walking without him noticing. Nothing was exchanged between the three, only a constant drone of grim thoughts oozing into the air and fear of the worst swirling Childe’s mind. They arrived in front of a room where the oldest man entered, leaving them standing outside. Before long, he walked out saying, “She’s awake now.”
Childe tapped Aether’s shoulder, giving him a light push. He sighed lightly before entering the room. Their uncle, in the meantime, had gone to process the administrative stuff in preparation for the surgery, so Childe was left alone there in the empty hallway. The wall was hard behind him as his head bumped into it once, twice, thrice…
How’s she feeling?
In pain, that’s for sure—physically and emotionally.
He hated this feeling. The helplessness ate him inside-out, further emphasizing the fact that there was nothing he could do to help her. Lumine was fighting a lonely war, and although everyone was there for her, supporting her in every way possible, in the end, it was just her against cancer.
It wasn’t really fair, was it?
The door swung open, revealing Aether with half a smile that melted away the moment the door clicked close behind him. The air barely changed. If anything, it felt even more somber than before.
“She acts tough,” he heard Aether saying, “even though it’s okay to cry…”
Childe said nothing to him, unsure of what to say because there was no way he could lift the enshrouding glum when he couldn’t chase it off from himself either. In the end, he just waited there until the other turned to him and met his gaze.
“She’s looking for you, go.”
He didn’t need to hear it twice before excusing himself and entering the room.
It was brightly lit, with both cold artificial light and warm sunlight pouring in from the window through the sheer curtain. The bed was occupied by the girl, slightly reclined with piles of pillows behind her back to support her as she sat there quietly, gazing outside at something on the far horizon. She turned upon hearing the door closed behind him, a smile shifted into a laugh as she saw him.
“What’s with everyone looking so dispirited today?”
Blue eyes caught everything, then—skin paler than how it used to, the exhaustion that ghosted over her had become prominent, the shallow breaths. The small frame looked even more fragile now, clad only in a thin blue hospital gown, shawl pooled on her lap instead of worn around her neck, showing short blonde hair lackluster and thin.
“C’mon, am I the only one feeling happy from being scheduled with surgery?” she continued when Childe said nothing. “Wait, your shift hasn’t ended yet. Why are you here?”
Childe took his seat on the chair by her bed and gathered her hands, trying to melt the coldness with his hold. He frowned; this wasn’t how she usually behaved.
“How can I not?” he said quietly. “The chemo didn’t work on you. Your brother said it’s spread to your lungs. Dammit, Lumine, even with surgery, your chance of living is–”
“30%. I know,” she interjected, voice reduced to soft murmurs as she basked in the warmth of his hands around her. “And with a 50% chance of recurrence, it can get even lower.”
His voice was hoarse when he said, “Then how can you be so calm?”
“People die eventually. It’s just a matter of time,” her golden eyes disappeared beneath the fluttering closed eyelids. “It’s something that I’ve come to terms with. If I live, then I live. If I die, then I die. It’s that simple, especially if your illness has become so persistent despite all preventive and recovery measures.”
Childe brought her hand close to him, pressing his forehead against them as he cast his face down. “Aren’t you scared?”
A small chuckle sounded too weak to be called as one came from her. “I’m scared, but I have nothing to lose.”
“Your life, Lumine,” Childe leaned close to her, gazing deep into bright eyes clouded by a haze of fatigue. “You still have your life. Your brother, your uncle, me…”
“But I’m tired, Childe,” she said after a long silence, voice losing its sunny flavor and trembling. “I’m tired of being so hopeful that this will end soon, that I’ll walk out of the hospital with my own two feet, that I have a long life ahead when everything pointed out the obvious that no, I’ll never be able to win this. 30% chance of living for another 5 years… even that sounds too good to be—”
Childe stood and took her in his hold, silencing him as he felt her quiver. A hand on her back—small, small back—tapping and rubbing it gently.
“You love streaming,” he started, “and there’re tons of people waiting for you to return to talk with them again. The game we played has a new update, a new area that you’d love to spend hours exploring and solving puzzles. The waffle you once mentioned in your stream has a new flavor. Summer will be so hot, but there’ll be festivals that you can make a vlog of.”
He felt her clinging onto him, thin fingers gripped his shirt as she buried her face in him.
“So don’t give in, Lumine,” Childe continued, “because I want to be a part of your life for years to come.”
He was in the middle of tidying up his desk when his phone rang.
The spring break had finished together with his volunteer program, and now he had returned to his classes—or a discussion for his thesis with his lecturer. Aether’s name appeared on the screen, making him immediately shove his laptop and notebook into his backpack and run out of the room.
“Childe, come quick. It’s Lumine.”
That was the only thing he said before the call ended, leaving Childe frozen in surprise without being able to say anything. An alarm rang in his head, making him run through the hallway to the parking lot to get his motorbike and drive in a fit of panic.
What happened…
It had been two weeks since her surgery, and her health had been declining to the point that she couldn’t receive any visitors. Aether had been in contact with him for the first week of post-surgery, but lately, there’s barely any update from him. Even coming to the hospital always got him told that she’s still unable to receive a visit, even if it’s from her family.
Numerous scenarios flashed in his mind as he waited for the last red light before the hospital, and he couldn’t lie that the worst one was the loudest one. His phone vibrated as he parked his motorbike, flashing a notification from Aether with a one-liner message West wing, room 5-19B .
It was getting harder to breathe as he paced, trying so hard not to run and bump into anyone in the lobby, slipping into the emergency stairs as the lift was very crowded, and stopping in front of a room with a 19B sign hanging on the door. The deserted hallway started to make him nauseous from its silence and coldness. Childe knocked.
The door swung open, revealing the older man gazing at him with an unreadable look. Aether stood behind him and they walked out as Childe stepped aside. Neither of them said anything, just a push from Aether, and Childe was inside the room with the door clicked softly behind him.
Someone lay in the bed, a familiar figure, unmoving. His leg took a heavy step, then another, and then a couple more until he stood by the bed, gazing at the pale-skinned girl lying there with her brilliant golden eyes unseen.
“Lumine?”
Is she–
“Took you long enough.”
Hoarse voice, a little bit shaky. Sleepy eyes gazed at him with moisture gathered there, spilled to her side the moment he took her hand and brought it to his face, pressing his forehead against it.
“Thank Archons,” he whispered, feeling burns behind his eyes as everything started to blur, “ thank Archons .”
Lumine laughed lightly—how he missed the sound of her laughter—and slid down her hand to cup his wet cheeks, catching the tears as she offered him a smile.
“Thank you, Childe,” she said slowly, “for being there for me.”
“Always,” he leaned into her hand, “I’ll always be here if you want.”
“I have a plan for that, actually. That 30% chance, I want to take it,” she paused, gazing deeply into him, mischief apparent in her eyes. “And I want to kidnap you into taking a part of it.”
Childe smiled, although it must be weird because he couldn’t stop his tears. “Until when do you plan on keeping me hostage?”
Lumine smiled, pulling him into her, hugging him the best she could.
“Until death do us part.”